When he had been imprisoned for
twenty-three years his case came to the knowledge of Voltaire, and he
was, through the efforts of Voltaire, released and restored to his
family.

This was the work of Voltaire. There is not time to tell of the case
of Gen. Lally, of the English Gen. Byng, of the niece of Corneille, of
the Jesuit Adam, of the writers, dramatists, actors, widows and orphans
for whose benefit he gave his influence, his money and his time.

But I will tell another case: In 1765 at the town of Abbeville an old
wooden cross on a bridge had been mutilated--whittled with a knife--a
terrible crime. Sticks, when crossing each other, were far more sacred
than flesh and blood. Two young men were suspected--the Chevalier de
la Barre and d'Ettalonde. D'Ettallonde fled to Prussia and enlisted as
a common soldier. La Barre remained and stood his trial. He was
convicted without the slightest evidence, and he and d'Ettallonde were
both sentenced: First, to endure the torture, ordinary and
extraordinary; second, to have their tongues torn out by the roots with
pincers of iron; third, to have their right hands cut off at the door
of the church; and fourth, to be bound to stakes by chains of iron and
burned to death by a slow fire. "Forgive us our trespasses as we
forgive those who trespass against us." Remembering this, the judges
mitigated the sentence by providing that their heads should be cut off
before their bodies were given to the flames. The case was appealed to
Paris; heard by a court composed of twenty-five judges learned in law,
and the judgment was confirmed. The sentence was carried out on the
1st day of July, 1766.

Voltaire had fought with every weapon that genius could devise or use.
He was the greatest of all caricaturists, and he used this wonderful
gift without mercy. For pure crystallized wit he had no equal. The
art of flattery was carried by him to the height of an exact science.
He knew and practiced every subterfuge. He fought the army of
hypocrisy and pretense, the army of faith and falsehood. Voltaire was
annoyed by the meaner and baser spirits of his time, by the cringers
and crawlers, by the fawners and pretenders, by those who wished to
gain the favors of priests, the patronage of nobles. Sometimes he
allowed himself to be annoyed by these scorpions; sometimes he attacked
them. And, but for these attacks, long ago they would have been
forgotten. In the amber of his genius Voltai